I Feel I Haven't Won At All
by eponnia
Summary: Post-Kaltzberg Festival. "If it wasn't happening to them, then it was not of their concern. For one of the first times in his life, Max was not so sure that this was the best philosophy." [NBC Live!verse Max/Elsa]
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is based on NBC's Live! production of the stage version of SoM, with Carrie Underwood and Stephen Moyer. I personally loved the Live! version, and had only one or two complaints that had nothing to do with the casting. **

**The main ship in **_**I Feel I Haven't Won At All**_** is obviously Max/Elsa, which I didn't start supporting until Christian Borle and Laura Benanti played the roles. They were fantastic individually, but together they were absolutely perfect. In the movie, I did not feel that much for the characters, but it wasn't the actors' fault; with their two songs cut, Richard Haydn and Eleanor Parker didn't have very much screen time and little to work with to develop their characters. But since Christian and Laura had the songs and more scenes, they gave the characters the prominence they deserved. **

**As far as I can tell, this is one of the first NBC Live! fics. The title is borrowed from a line in **_**Where I Want To Be**_**, a song from the musical **_**Chess**_**. This won't be too long, with only a handful of chapters or so. As stated in the summary, this is set after the Kaltzberg Festival and the von Trapp family's escape from Austria. **

* * *

"Herr Detweiler?"

"Yes?" Max replied nonchalantly, watching the guard carefully.

"You have a visitor."

"A visitor? Whoever might it be?" he asked indifferently, laying aside the newspaper he had been holding.

"She said she was your sister, but our records show you have no siblings."

"Ah, well, it's a nickname of sorts," Max said smoothly. "Close friend of my family. Show her in, will you?"

The guard left, and a few moments later Max heard the guard's returning footsteps, accompanied by the steady staccato of heels, revealing a tall, dark-haired woman around the corner, closely followed by the guard.

"You have fifteen minutes," the guard said in a firm tone, but Max pretended not to hear.

"Elsa!" he said, standing with what felt like his first genuine smile in some time. "My darling sister."

"How are you, my dear brother?" she asked, brushing her lips against his cheek, her strong perfume wafting through the air. Taking a step back, she took his hands in hers. "Let me get a look at you. It's been forever since I've seen you." She met his eyes with a smile. "Dashing as always, Max."

They both knew he was not the same, but neither was she. But they both knew how to get by, how to survive, by just letting things happen the way they were going to happen. It had gotten them by before, and it was going to work now.

It had to.

"And you are just as beautiful as when I saw you last," he replied, and corrected his mistake swiftly by adding, "Care to take a seat?" She nodded wordlessly and went to the couch, releasing her hold on his hands. The last time they had seen each other was when she and Georg had ended their engagement, a subject Max knew she did not wish to mention.

To Max's exasperation and Elsa's subtle irritation, the guard had still not moved from his post by the door, clearly having no intention of leaving. "How have you been?" Max continued, taking a seat beside her.

"Fine, thank you," she answered, not meeting his eyes and smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle on her perfectly pressed skirt. She lifted her head to look around. "I haven't been here in such a long time, Max. I forgot how charming it was."

"What's kept you away so long?" he inquired for the sake of conversation, but the reason was obvious: it was difficult to visit someone under house arrest. Ever since the night of the Kaltzberg Festival where the von Trapp family made their last appearance in Austria before fleeing to safety, Max had been kept under careful watch by the new government. Although unable to leave his home except for urgent business, he knew he could have it much worse.

"Oh, business, you know," she said vaguely.

"How is that going?"

"Very well."

"Would you like some tea?" he said, trying to move the conversation forward. Before the culmination of recent events, they never had trouble talking, but Max chalked it up to the presence of the guard, hovering like a dark cloud just over their shoulders.

"Please," she responded.

As Max poured the tea, he could tell there was something she was not telling him. He sensed it was something important, but knew now was not the time to ask her.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he said, setting down his tea. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you." Elsa raised an eyebrow as she lowered her tea cup from her lips, letting the china rest on the saucer with a quiet _click_.

"I've been offered a position at the Reich Chamber of Culture." He looked directly in her gray eyes as he spoke, trying to communicate his underlying message. _Don't worry for me, if you were going to. I'll be protected. _

"Wonderful, Max," she said, letting her hand rest on his for a moment as her first genuine smile of the visit crossed her lips.

"I had hoped you'd think so," he quipped, earning an airy laugh from his companion.

"Max, I-"

"Times up," the guard said, taking a step forward. Elsa moved to set her tea cup on the tray, and her hand shook slightly for some uncharacteristic reason, causing the china to clatter loudly. Max swiftly took it from her and set it down, reaching out a hand as he stood. She grasped it and rose to her feet, giving him a confident smile and giving no sign of her previous emotion, however brief.

"It was lovely to see you, Max," she said.

"The same to you, Elsa," he replied as he bent to kiss the back of her hand. The guard stepped forward, and Max released Elsa. He watched her leave with the guard by her side, once again in control of the situation as per usual. After she had turned the corner and he heard the door shut behind her, Max felt an inexplicable sense of loneliness.

Perhaps fifteen minutes of awkward small talk with an old friend had been more worthwhile that he had first thought.

* * *

Elsa did not visit again during the rest of his tenure under house arrest, and Max was left alone to his thoughts for the next five and a half months. He had been threatened by Nazi officials for assisting in the escape of a potential asset to the German armed forces, and agreed never to try it again. Where he would get the opportunity another time, he did not know, but did not tell the Germans that.

It wasn't much of a surprise when he read in the papers that a certain woman of the illustrious Schräder family had married a German officer. He concluded that he really shouldn't have been shocked at all. Just like himself, Elsa survived in almost any way she could; if that meant marrying a Nazi, she would do it.

He could hear the maid's voice as he waited in the doorway of her husband's grand home which, he observed, gave Georg's estate a run for his money. He then heard Elsa's familiar voice instructing the maid, and moments later he walked into the foyer to see his friend and her husband.

At first glance, the man was huge. Although Max considered himself to be above average height, Elsa's husband was over six feet with shoulders like an ox. Elsa was tall, but even she looked small compared to the man beside her.

"Detweiler, right?" Elsa's husband said in a voice that filled the room.

"Yes," Max barely managed to get out his reply before the man continued.

"Wörnhör," he said, sticking out a hand twice as large as Max's own. "Hans Wörnhör."

"Ah, yes," Max replied as Hans nearly crushed his hand while shaking it. "A decorated war hero, I've heard." It was always best to flatter people who could pulverize you.

"Stay for dinner, Detweiler?" Hans said, but it was more of an order than a question.

"Of course," Max replied.

As he took a seat across the table from Elsa, Hans sitting at the head, her husband asked, "What do you do again, Detweiler?"

"I work for the Reich Chamber of Music."

"Musician, then?"

"You could say so, yes." Max set his fork aside. "I must offer my delayed congratulations to you both on your nuptials."

"Thank you, M- Herr Detweiler," Elsa said, quickly correcting herself to the German _sir_. The formality felt strange between them, but he let it pass.

"Were you at the wedding?" Hans asked.

"Regrettably, no. I had important business to attend to," Max lied smoothly.

"Joseph Goebbels was there," Hans said. "You know him, correct?"

"Yes," Max replied. "I have the-" _misfortune_ "-pleasure of working with him on a number of occasions."

As Hans continued, his voice ringing through the dining room, Elsa lifted her glass to her lips. As she did so, the sleeve of her dress slipped a little ways down her wrist. Max saw a bruise on her skin, a dark stain on her pale arm. She saw where his gaze was directed and quickly lowered her glass, pulling her sleeve down. As Max pretended to laugh at something Hans said, he raised an eyebrow at his friend, keeping his expression jovial as not to tip off her husband. Elsa put her hands in her lap and met his gaze, lips pursed and eyes telling him not to ask.

The rest of the dinner passed in Hans' domination of the conversation and Max pretending to be interested. Elsa was uncharacteristically quiet, avoiding eye contact with him. He recognized that her normal independent spirit was subdued by her husband's presence, and knew she was not used to being so reserved. Her previous husband, Heinrich, was a quiet man who knew nothing of running the family business his father had given him, but Elsa kept it afloat and had continued managing it after Heinrich's death. Her relationship with Georg came next, but he respected her intelligence, despite their differing opinions. Hans' treatment of her was worlds away from that of either Heinrich or Georg, even Max's friendship with her.

But her countenance told him everything as he bid the couple farewell. The word that they both lived by was written across her face.

_Survive_.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Max did not see Elsa or Hans for seven months. As a friend, he was concerned for her safety, but knew she would contact him somehow if something drastic happened. They were both the same type of people, fundamentally – concerned for their own safety and that of those close to them. They would go out of their way to help others if necessary, but thought of themselves first. If it wasn't happening to them, then it was not of their concern.

For one of the first times in his life, Max was not so sure that this was the best philosophy.

By coincidence, the couple was invited to a party that featured a small concert he had assisted in organizing. It was not as grand as he would have liked, but it distracted him from the downhill direction the country was heading under Hitler and gave him a purpose in the eyes of the Nazi government. After the concert itself had concluded, the floor was cleared for dancing, and that's when he had seen Elsa.

She wore a much more modest dress than she would have before the Anschluss, though it was still of course fashionable and expensive. Her wrists were again covered, this time by gloves. Her dark hair was pulled up, contrasting the normal styled loose curls she sported during her widowhood. Max saw Hans grip her arm and pulled her with him to introduce her to someone, and even across the room Max saw her wince.

He made his way around the dance floor, weaving through the crowds standing along the walls and trying his best to appear as relaxed as possible before pretending to spot the couple just as he passed by them.

"Herr Wörnhör!" Max exclaimed in mock surprise. "Fräu Wörnhör," he said, giving Elsa a half-bow. "How wonderful to see you here," he added, looking at her as he spoke. She gave him a polite smile but nothing more.

"What are you doing here, Dietrich?" Hans asked, but Max did not correct him on his surname.

"I helped organize the concert you just heard."

"Oh, really?" Hans clearly was not ecstatic about the music and unconvincingly feigned interest.

"May I have the honor of dancing with your wife?" Max asked, directing his comment at Hans. He knew her husband would view it as an insult if Elsa was asked instead of himself; he also knew that the old Elsa would have answered for herself, regardless of who was asked in the first place, but the new Elsa said nothing.

"Go ahead," Hans said dismissively, already looking around the crowd and not paying attention to Elsa or Max. He offered her a hand and she accepted, but Elsa pulled him away through the crowd onto the dance floor just as a new song began. _There's the old Elsa._

"It's good to see you again, Max," she said in a low voice, but her confidence was beginning to come back. He never thought one man would have so much effect on his strong-willed friend, but gave her a smile, glad to see life back in Elsa.

"The same to you." He held out a hand that she grasped, placing a hand on his shoulder as he rested a hand on her waist. "Truth be told, I was surprised to see you and your man here."

She smiled at him, but it didn't quite reach her eyes as they began to step in time with the music. "Hans was invited," Elsa said with a shrug. "I managed to convince him to let me come."

"He wasn't going to bring you?" Max said, raising an eyebrow as they turned.

"Apparently I'm an embarrassment to him," she replied lightly, keeping a smile on her lips. "I'm too opinionated."

Just as Max was about to reply, a man behind Elsa stepped back too far and accidentally shoved her. She was pushed awkwardly onto Max's chest, who quickly moved both hands to her waist to stop her fall; the man who had run into her did not even notice what had happened. The moment Max put pressure on her waist to steady her, she winced, and he lessened his hold, concerned. "Elsa?" he asked worriedly in a low tone, watching her carefully as she straightened.

"I'm fine," she said, putting a hand gingerly on her side.

"Come, Elsa," he said firmly, taking one of her hands. "You need to rest." He led through the crowd, walking slowly for her sake, but she pushed past him, her strides long. When she faltered slightly, he held out an arm, conscious of the people watching them, and she took it without comment.

He managed to convince an officer he did not know to give up his seat for her. Though she insisted she was alright, she took the seat gratefully, holding his hand for support. "Elsa, what happened?" Max asked in a low voice, wishing the people around them would stop staring. It occurred to him that before the Anschluss, he would have welcomed the attention, but after Germany's takeover of Austria, things were different. The country felt different. Elsa was different. Even he was different.

"It's nothing," she said with a light laugh. "I just bruised my side a bit ago. Truly, I'm fine, Max." Her smile faded for a split second as she corrected herself for the sake of the people watching their conversation. "I mean, Herr Detweiler. Forgive me for my forwardness."

"No offense taken," he replied, returning the smile and wishing they could return to their old days of friendship without titles or formalities. A time when he could freely ask her if Hans had hurt her, if that was the reason she was quieter, more careful, and less independent. Honestly, he knew he wasn't too far off the mark without asking her a single question.

"What's going on here?"

Max turned to see Hans approaching through the crowd. Elsa quickly pulled her hand from Max's, saying, "It's nothing, dear. I just have a headache. Get me a drink, won't you, Herr Detweiler?" she asked, lies spilling from her lips as easily as her charm.

As Max left, he saw Hans arguing with his wife. When he returned to the table with the drink, however, the couple was gone.

* * *

Max did not see or hear any mention of the Wörnhörs for months. He debated going to find Elsa, but something kept him away.

He readily admitted he was a coward.

In September, roughly a year after he had first met Hans, an article in the paper about the recent German invasion of Poland announced that a Nazi officer had been shot by protesting Polish citizens. An officer by the name of Wörnhör.

Max stared at the words for a moment before reading on that the man was dead, the funeral occurring that very evening.

He set down the paper, threw on his coat, and left immediately.

The door of the mansion was open, and Max could see reporters inside, cameras flashing. He entered the foyer, politely brushing aside the maid who offered to take his coat, focused instead on finding the widow.

Dressed in black, Elsa stood stoically by the open casket containing the body of her husband, looking at it with eyes that were definitely not swimming with tears. Max took in the scene and called her name over the shouts of the reporters, and she looked up to see him. For a split second, relief flashed in her hazel eyes as she recognized him, but it disappeared so quickly he wondered if he had imagined it.

She began to walk away from the casket without a word, her returned confidence deflecting the reporter's questions. Max knew he was supposed to follow, and made it through the group to step into the doorway of which turned out to be a sitting room, shutting the door behind him while she stood at the window.

"Elsa."

She turned at his voice, the corners of her lips turning up. "Max. Thank you for coming."

"My pleasure. Shall we sit?"

"Of course." They moved to the couch in the middle of the room, careful not to sit too close. When did that matter before?

"I've always hated mourning clothes," she began offhandedly, removing her gloves and tossing them carelessly on the coffee table. "I have to wear them for far too long. It was easier after Heinrich's death. Less people were watching."

"Elsa," he interrupted, turning to face her. "There's been something I've been meaning to ask you, ever since that party last year."

"The one where we danced?" At his nod, she added, "It was so long ago, Max…"

"Elsa, normally I would let that old of a question go, but I would like to know," he pressed, looking at her intently. "Did Hans hurt you while you were married?"

"Why so serious, Max?" she said in a light tone.

"I would like to know." He waited, watching her.

"You really want to know?" she finally said. At his nod, she sighed. "Yes. Are you happy now?" Elsa stood and went back to the window.

"Well, no, I'm not," he replied. "I know there's nothing I can do about it now, and I do apologize for not doing anything to help you earlier-"

"Max, stop-"

"-but I would like to make sure it never happens again."

She finally turned to him. "What are you saying?"

"I want to help you."

"Max, you're sounding like Georg, and it doesn't suit you. I don't need your help; I survived this marriage. I'll be fine on my own."

"Elsa, friends help each other." When she did not respond, he went on. "I have a proposition."

She continued to look out the window, silent.

"I've been thinking about this, and I know you're not going to like the sound of it." He paused, and she finally looked at him.

"Well?"

He cracked a smile. "You never were patient, Elsa." Max's demeanor grew serious.

"I think we should get married."

She stared at him, and eventually found her voice with a disbelieving laugh. "What on earth are you talking about, Max?"

"It's only for your protection-"

"I don't need protection," she said sharply, her laughter disappearing.

"Elsa, you don't know what it's like out there-"

"Oh, yes I do," she retorted, anger flashing in her eyes. "You think just because I was chained to Hans I was blind to the world? He tried to make me his brainless trophy wife, but I know what is happening to Austria."

"Austria doesn't _exist_ anymore," Max said. "Only Germany. Only the Third Reich. I am out in the streets while all of the changes are happening, and it's getting darker by the hour. Your status and influence are slipping away as we speak-"

"Don't tell me what I lost-"

"If you want to be a trophy wife to another bastard like Hans, be my guest," Max said, determined to make her see. "But I am offering you protection. Like it or not, you are going to need it. I'm not asking out of romantic ideals. Think of it as a business deal, but you get all the benefits. Elsa," he said, frustrated, "I don't want to lose my only friend."

They looked at each other for a long moment of silence.

"I will consider it," she said, and walked out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Elsa did not smile on their wedding day.

She gave her pretend, faux one that looked convincing to everyone around her, the one she always used, but Max never saw a genuine smile appear on her features during the ceremony.

The wedding was simpler than her union to either Heinrich or Hans, but still lavish; not that Max had much experience with weddings in the first place. Due to the war, the three day ceremony was shortened to one, a change for which both he and Elsa were grateful. They had managed to get out of the traditional kidnappings, where the best man would steal the bride, get her drunk at a bar, and keep her there until the groom paid her ransom. There had been enough dissent in the streets that it was deemed unsafe for drunk government officials to be cavorting around with the common classes.

One tradition in both Austrian and German wedding customs stayed in their ceremony that Max knew Elsa would be not be pleased to perform, but they had no choice. He did mention it once, and she agreed to go through with it for appearance's sake, as many Nazi government officials would be present, but they both agreed it meant nothing.

Even so, when they knelt during the ceremony and Max rested his knees on the skirt of Elsa's wedding dress to show his dominance in their relationship, he saw her lips purse. Because of the guests watching, however, after their dispassionate kiss at the end of the wedding, she was not able to step on his foot, as the tradition stated, to show that she would not let him single-handedly control their marriage.

Due to Elsa's wealth, even after Hans had access to it, they were able to stay in one of the cities' most expensive hotels in the luxury bridal suite. After the hotel staff brought their luggage into the room and they were left alone for their wedding night, Max took off his suit jacket.

"I'd like to turn in a bit early tonight. The ceremony was long, wasn't it?" he asked over his shoulder as he hung up his jacket in the closet. When he was received only silence as a response, he turned to see Elsa looking at him, surprised. "What?"

"You don't…" She trailed off and gave him on her almost-genuine smiles. "Help me out of this dress?"

"Of course." He approached her as she turned her back to him to give him access to the endless number of buttons running down the back. As his fingers brushed her smooth skin, she gave a quiet sigh, but he continued to undo the buttons without comment. After he undid the last one, she looked over her shoulder at him. "I'll need you to undo my corset, Max." He nodded and loosened the stays; she turned to pull it from her body and dropping it to the floor, revealing a silk chemise, the hem and the low neckline made of mostly-sheer lace.

Elsa was obviously waiting for his reaction, but he merely gave her a polite smile. "I'll be in the water closet. Don't wait up for me."

As he washed his hands a short while later, he contemplated how to approach Elsa. He was not inclined to be intimate with his last remaining friend, no matter how attractive she was. Her words came back to him about sounding like Georg, but he supposed it wasn't an undesirable comparison. Having moral standards never hurt anyone, and it wouldn't hurt him either. He did not want to ruin their friendship even by consummating their legal wedding; it was a marriage of convenience, nothing more.

He was not surprised to see Elsa waiting for him. She had pulled the covers back, lying across the bed in an alluring position that gave him a very good view of her breasts, her legs impossibly long.

Max picked up a book from his suitcase and sat on the bed beside her, opening it to his bookmark.

"Max."

"Hmm?" he replied, turning a page.

"Look at me."

"Yes?" he said, doing as she asked.

"Are you going to… _read_?" she questioned in a disbelieving tone.

"I plan to."

"Did you hit your head?"

He shook his head, going back to his book.

"Did someone put something in your drink?"

"I don't think so."

She reached up and took his book, tossing it aside, and it landed on the floor. "Maximillian Detweiler."

"That is my name, and I was reading that, you know."

"What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Goodnight, Elsa." He removed his glasses, resting them on the side table and turned out the lamp, leaving on only the light on her side of the bed, and plunging the rest of the room into mostly darkness. He turned onto his side, his back to her.

A few moments later, he felt her hand rest on his shoulder and begin moving down his chest, but he pulled her arm away, repeating, "_Goodnight_, Elsa."

There was an instant of silence, and then she sat up with a huff, swung her legs over her side of the bed, and went into the water closet, slamming the door behind her.

Max turned to lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, and after a couple of minutes, he put his glasses back on and went to the door of the water closet, which he did not open.

"Elsa?"

"Do you fancy men?" came her voice.

"I'm afraid not. May I come in?"

She did not answer, and he opened the door to see her standing before the mirror, gazing at herself.

"Is it me, then?" she asked, looking at her reflection critically.

"No." When she looked at him, frustrated, over her shoulder, he added, "No, it is definitely not you. Without a doubt, you are the most beautiful corporation president in the entire world."

"This is the last place in the history of the universe for jokes, Max."

"Forgive me. I did not mean to offend."

She turned to face him, completely exasperated. Tears of frustration, something Max never thought he would see – well, tears of any kind – began to fill her hazel eyes. "Then what is it?" she demanded.

"I did not wish to ruin our friendship."

"That's it?" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

"Yes."

"You _idiot_," she said vehemently, but her anger was lessened by the crack in her voice. Elsa reached out to steady herself on the counter, furiously fighting back tears. Max reached out a hand to her, but she gave him a glare that stopped him cold.

"We are _married_," she continued, still valiantly trying to keep tears at bay. "Friendship doesn't matter anymore."

"Yes, it does, Elsa," he said quietly. As he watched her at what was undoubtedly her most vulnerable, he suddenly came to a realization for her reaction. He had known, of course, that nearly every single man she came in contact with desired her. She was a very beautiful woman, he freely admitted that. But Elsa was accustomed to using her appeal to her advantage. Her money was a tool she used, and her cunning as well, but her beauty always sealed any plan.

Max never thought of her in that manner, except for perhaps the first time he had met her. Of course he had recognized her attractiveness, but he saw a calculating, intelligent mind beneath the striking surface. He respected that more than her beauty.

But she had expected the opposite from him.

"Elsa," he said. She looked up at him through red-rimmed eyes, and he continued. "I do not wish to cause you pain, and I am sorry I did so."

"You aren't forgiven," she replied, but her voice was not as spiteful as before.

"This is a marriage of convenience," Max said. "I wasn't going to force you to fulfill everything else."

"I was willing to."

"But we are just friends, Elsa," he said. With a sigh, he held out a hand. "Let's go to bed."

She looked at him for a moment before slipping her hand into his. He half-expected her to march back to bed, but she let him lead her. As she turned out the light, she asked, "Max, why are you saying all of this? What is your purpose?"

"As your friend," he began, "I respect you for your mind more than your beauty. I wanted you to have support for that somewhere, while the rest of the world objectifies you."

There was a long moment of silence. Then he heard her move in the darkness, and felt her body slide up next to his. "Elsa…" As he was turning away, she spoke in a low voice, sounding desperate for the first time in the years he had known her.

"Max, hold me. Please." A pause. "As friends."

"As friends," he murmured back, giving in. He wrapped an arm around her waist, the other around her shoulders, and she rested her head on his chest.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You are welcome."

"You're still not forgiven."

He smiled briefly at her comment. "I know."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to every person who has reviewed my story. I did not think anyone would even read this, seeing how new the plays/musical archive is compared when to the movie one. Every review means so much to me, and I can't thank you all enough. **

* * *

A couple of weeks later, Max woke in their villa just outside of Vienna when he heard Elsa get out of bed and run to the water closet. He got up, however, when he heard her emptying the contents of her stomach.

He entered the water closet to see her kneeling before the toilet, dry heaving into it. He went to her side, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder before gently pulling her thick hair back from her shoulders.

"Thanks," she managed to say before dry heaving again.

"Have too much to drink last night?" he asked as she finished.

"No, I wasn't feeling well last night," she replied. "I only had one glass." She dry heaved once more.

Max had to support her as she staggered back to bed, and she collapsed onto the comforter, her skin void of all color. He pulled the blanket over her thin frame as she groaned, bringing her legs up to her chest.

"I'll get a maid," he said. "And then I'm calling a doctor."

"Max, you don't have to do that..." she said in a pale voice.

"Don't move, Elsa," he ordered, albeit kindly.

"Max..." she said weakly, but he was already out the door, calling for the housekeeper.

* * *

"You can come in now, Herr Detweiler," the doctor said, opening the door to their bedroom. Max approached the man quickly.

"How is she?"

"Fine, just fine," the doctor said. "I'm sure you would like to hear this news with your wife."

Confused by the doctor's cryptic reply, Max went past him into the bedroom. Elsa looked more herself, sitting up against a mountain of pillows, and some color had returned to her cheeks. She smiled weakly at him, and he took her hand in his as he reached her side. He dismissed the maid that had tended to Elsa, the young woman dropping a quick curtsy before leaving.

"Well, Herr and Fräu Detweiler," the doctor said, "you are expecting a child."

Max immediately plastered a smile on his face, squeezing Elsa's hand as if in excitement. "Wonderful," he said, clearing his throat. "Wonderful." When he glanced at Elsa, she gave him a tight-lipped smile.

"Doctor, would you care for a drink?" he asked, releasing his wife's hand and going to the doctor's side. "We have an excellent wine selection..."

"I appreciate the offer, Herr Detweiler, but I really must be going," the doctor said. "Congratulations to you both."

After Max saw him out to his car, trying to give Elsa time alone, he returned to their bedroom, knocking on the door.

"Elsa?"

"Come in," she called, but her voice was so quiet he almost didn't hear her. Opening the door, he saw that she had not moved from the position on the bed that he had left her. Her features were serious, but he caught a nervous glint in her eyes. When had Elsa ever been nervous?

"We might as well get this over with," she began, trying to summon her usual confidence, but was unable to meet his eyes for more than a glance. "You know as well as I that we have not been intimate during our marriage."

"I am aware the child is not mine," he said, approaching the bed.

"Let me finish," she said, glaring at him, her normal personality appearing for a moment. "I have been faithful to you while we have been married, as short as a time that is."

"So the child's father is…"

"Hans," she said simply, but couldn't quite meet his gaze.

"Elsa, I do not blame you," he said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "You did what you had to do to survive. We'll just pretend that the child is mine. Simple as that."

She finally met his gaze. "I don't deserve a friend like you." They sat together in silence, but she broke it. "What are we going to do, Max? Why us? Why now?"

He understood her underlying question. She knew as well as he did that now of all times was the worst possible time to bring a child into the world, with the turbulent and dangerous state of the country. They both knew nearly every couple in Germany, all of Europe, even, shared their opinion. Despite the government's preaching to increase the population, people knew that their children would suffer and did their best to keep from having any.

"At least we have the means to protect them," he began, but she turned her head sharply to him.

"All the money in the world couldn't protect them," she said bitterly.

"Elsa..."

"Don't try to find a silver lining. Face it, Max, there isn't one."

For one of the first times in his life, he was at a loss for words. As he watched her for a moment, he saw her hand move over her stomach, even though there was no sign yet of the life inside her. When Elsa noticed what she was doing, however, she quickly moved her hand away, picking at her nightgown.

"If this happened in another time," he began, "in a place where we and the child would be safe, would you be happy?"

She waited so long to respond that he thought she hadn't heard him, but eventually Elsa said, "I don't know."

* * *

"I sometimes wish we could have gone to America with them."

Max looked up from his breakfast. He sat with Elsa at a small table in the alcove of their bedroom in her villa, the residence they had claimed as their main dwelling, as the morning sun streamed through their windows.

"What made you think of that?" he asked his wife.

She shrugged, laying aside the newspaper she had been reading. "No reason."

"Any interesting articles?" he said, gesturing to the paper.

"There's more talk of building budgets and plans for the Jewish camps."

"Speaking of Jews," Max said, "did you hear that Kurt Baumann and Kurt Singer are thinking about creating a music organization? It's for Jewish musicians who have been fired because of their religion. I believe they are calling it the Culture League of German Jews."

"I didn't know about it," Elsa replied vaguely.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Fine," she said, picking at her breakfast.

Elsa was now five months pregnant and not enjoying the process. Her mood swings were more volatile than ever, but her normal personality had conditioned Max to her remarks thrown in darker tempers.

"Have you come up with any names yet?" he said casually.

"No. Have you?"

"I was thinking Louis for a boy. Perhaps Anna for a girl?"

She shrugged. "Why don't we take the route of other wealthy people and name them after ourselves? Maximillian the second?"

"I'm sure a daughter would be honored to follow in your footsteps," he said lightly, "but I'd prefer that our son would not have to bear the name of a coward."

Elsa looked at him for a moment, and continued, knowing her husband wasn't looking for pity. "What about Georg?"

"Someone would pick up on it and trace it back to him, one way or another."

"True." She shifted in her seat, grimacing slightly as she rested a hand on her swollen stomach.

"Elsa?"

"I'm fine, it's nothing," she said dismissively as she pushed back her chair from the breakfast table.

"Are you sure? I have to leave soon, but if you need anything…"

"I'm pregnant, not an invalid," she said shortly. As time had passed, he noticed that his wife had developed the opinion that she would accept the help of servants, but refused assistance from her husband. He didn't press the issue, knowing she wanted space.

"Well, I should be going…" He paused as Elsa stopped, resting a hand on her stomach, a mixture of shock and concentration on her features. "Everything alrig-?"

"Max," she interrupted, looking at him with an unreadable expression on her face, "I just felt it move."

It took him a moment to be able to speak. "What?"

"I felt it move just now," she repeated, looking down at her stomach. Her eyebrows shot up as she shifted her hand, saying, "There is again…"

Max was so surprised that he almost didn't notice the lack of excitement in her voice, but ignored his observation as he approached her. "May I…?" he asked, extending a hand but not touching her.

Not waiting to respond, she took his hand and placed it on her stomach. For a moment, nothing happened, and he was aware of the fact that that was the most intimate touch he had ever given her during their marriage.

Then, just under his fingers, he felt a quick nudge, as light as a single feather being tapped against his hand. He leaned forward as if that would encourage more movement from the life inside Elsa.

"I felt it!" He looked up at her with a smile, but she was not exactly joyous. She looked conflicted, as if she did not know what she should be feeling.

"You should go to work, Max, or you'll be late," she finally said.

"I think this is a valid excuse for tardiness-"

"Max…"

"Well, I don't want to be too late," he said somewhat reluctantly, removing his hand from her stomach. "I'll see you tonight, then."

She stepped forward – to do what, Max did not know – but stopped. "Have a good day," Elsa said quietly.

"Call me if anything happens while I'm gone," he called as he went to the door of their bedroom.

"Max, I won't give birth while you're gone," she replied, rolling her eyes, and he grinned.

"Still…"

"Just go," she said in an exasperated tone, but he could tell she wasn't truly annoyed. As he left the room, he saw an amused smile on her lips, but it faded as she brought a hand to her stomach again.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Herr Detweiler?"

"What is it?" he said, looking away from the very important meeting he had been engrossed in, but was distracted quickly enough. It had been four months since he had felt the child move inside Elsa, and was certain that every time someone said his name, they would announce the child had been born or that something had happened to Elsa.

"Well, now that you've interrupted, go on," one of the officials said from across the table.

"Herr Detweiler, your butler called with an urgent message. Your wife is… in labor," the secretary's assistant said, obviously uncomfortable with discussing the topic of childbirth as he shifted awkwardly.

Max was immediately on his feet, hastily returning the papers that had been strewn across the table into his briefcase. "Surely you're not leaving, just for this?" said his superior in disbelief.

"Just for-" Max stopped himself from shouting at the man, and continued more calmly. "I'd like to know if I have an heir to my estate," he said as casually as he could muster, but inside he was panicking uncharacteristically.

"It can wait until after the meeting, Detweiler," his superior said firmly.

"I'm afraid not," Max said and left the room, ignoring the calls of the officials for one of the first times in his life.

* * *

"How is she?" he demanded of the butler, Olof Achterburg, slightly out of breath from running through the villa.

"She's fine," Olof assured him just as an agonized cry was heard inside the bedroom doors. Max moved to open them, but the butler put a hand on his arm. "It's women's work, Herr Detweiler. The midwife asked me to call a doctor, and he's on his way."

"If she asked you to call a doctor, something must be wrong," Max insisted as he heard Elsa's voice, begging for the pain to stop. He made to open the door, but Olof pulled him back.

"You can't go in there-"

Max turned to Olof, anger pounding through him. "I hired you to serve me," he said in abnormal coldness. "Do not tell me what I can and cannot do." He threw open a door, ignoring Olof's protestations, and was greeted by a chaotic sight.

A woman he presumed was the midwife stood at the foot of the bed, the housekeeper and two maids crowded around it. Blood stained the sheets, and as the midwife knelt, Max saw Elsa, legs spread wide and half-sitting, half-lying on the bed, struggling to support herself with trembling arms. Her body was drenched in sweat, her dark hair plastered to her face and neck, and she was openly crying.

"I can't do it, please make it go away, just pull it out, I can't do it-"

"Fräu Detweiler, you have to-" One of the maids must have alerted the midwife to the fact that Max was watching the scene, because she turned, shouting to be heard over Elsa's strangled sobs. "Get him out of here!" she instructed Olof, who forcibly pulled Max out of the room, slamming the door shut.

"Here, have a drink," Olof said and handed Max a glass, who consumed it in one swallow as his butler watched him. "The doctor should be here any minute, Herr Detweiler," the other man said. "I'm sure you'd like to meet him at the door."

Max did not step away from the door, taking off his glasses and wiping his face with a handkerchief, surprised at the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead in such a short time. "I suppose that's all I can do," he said, putting his glasses back on and walking down the hall to the stairs.

* * *

It lasted six hours.

The doctor arrived and disappeared into the room, but emerged some time later, claiming there was nothing he could do. Max wanted to throttle the man for not trying harder, but restrained himself.

He was surprised at the intensity of his reactions during the event, and had plenty of time to reflect while pacing back and forth. He normally was not so extreme in his emotions, having much more easygoing disposition. But this was Elsa, his best friend. His wife.

They had only been married for under a year, roughly nine months, and had known each other for a very long time. But he had never felt this protective towards her, had never experienced a desire to rush in and try to save her from the pain.

Max tried to determine what he felt for Elsa. Protectiveness – as a friend, he reminded himself – was obvious. He cared for her well-being, but that went along with the previous reason or emotion or whatever he was feeling. He enjoyed her friendship, appreciated her sarcastic remarks and witty comments. He admired her intelligence and cunning, and admitted that yes, she was beautiful. She was resourceful and resilient and confident and stubborn and charming…

He took a seat, staring at nothing in particular as he tried to determine if he was in love with his best friend.

He did have some sort of feelings towards her. He could easily rattle off a list about both her positive and negative attributes that he admired. He enjoyed her company immensely; that's why they had become friends in the first place. She had been a wealthy debutante and he had been a gawky boy at her society ball when they first met. She had been nervous but trying to act confident, and he had attempted to cheer her up with jokes and witty comments about the other guests. They had hit it off quickly, and became friends almost instantly, remaining close ever since.

That had been over twenty years prior. Now they were married and she was giving birth to a child that wasn't his. Was he? Was he in love with his best friend?

"Hang it all," he said to no one in particular, standing abruptly and going to a window to observe the beginnings of the sunset over the horizon. He glanced over his shoulder to see Olof and the doctor exchange a confused look at his comment, but he was unperturbed. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was not caring in the least what other people thought of him.

His train of thought was broken when the midwife came to the top of the stairs. "Herr Detweiler?" she said, but he was already ascending the stairs.

"What is it? Has something gone wrong?" he demanded as he approached her, palms suddenly sweaty as he let one hand trail over the bannister.

"No, nothing's wrong," the midwife said. "The birth is over. You can come see your wife and the child now, if you'd like."

"Of course," he said, brushing past her.

As he went to the bedroom, Max saw the few servants in the hall giving him apprehensive looks, but he ignored them as he strode into the room. Elsa was lying back on the bed, clearly having been cleaned up by the maids with not a single drop of sweat on her brow, but she could have been covered in blood and he wouldn't have minded how she looked in the least. She gave him a tentative smile that he couldn't attribute to exhaustion, though her fatigue was evident.

"Herr Detweiler? Would you like to see your daughter?"

Max looked over to see a maid holding a bundle of cloth, watching him carefully, and he suddenly understood. Everyone expected him to scorn a daughter simply because she wasn't a son. He decided he should have expected it, in reference to the times and the Nazis' view of women, but it didn't make the slightest amount of sense to him.

"Of course," he said with a smile, reaching out to the bundle, and the maid carefully laid the infant in his arms for the first time.

He wordlessly followed her instructions of how to hold the baby, but he was transfixed by her. She might not have been his daughter by blood, but he already knew that heritage was irreverent. She was impossibly small, and he was almost afraid she would crack like a china doll if he held her too tightly. The infant's skin was red, blotchy, and wrinkled, but he couldn't care in the least. She already had a small tuft of dark hair on the top of her head, her tiny hands in fists and impossibly small fingers curled.

She began to cry, a piercing wail, and a woman Max had never seen before stepped forward. "I can take her, Herr Detweiler," she said.

"Who are you?" he asked, motionless.

"I'm Ines Eberhardt, the wet nurse," she said, brow marred in confusion. "Surely your wife told you about me. I'll be feeding and taking care of your daughter."

Max immediately looked to Elsa, who was looking out the window as if fascinated by something outside. Everyone in the room had been quiet before, but it was silent as a tomb now except for the child's cries.

He resigned himself to the fact that the wet nurse that stood before him had actually been employed and needed to do her job, and begrudgingly handed the infant to Ines. Without orders, everyone in the room filed out, leaving Max and Elsa alone.

"I know what you're going to say, Max," she said quietly, still looking out the window.

"You could have asked me first."

She finally turned to him. "You're not going to shout? Yell that I went behind your back, spent your money? Scream about how dare I hand my own child off to another woman so she can take care of her?"

"Sorry to disappoint," he said, walking slowly to the bed. She crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to look at him as he came to a stop beside her.

"I wish you would have discussed it with me, but it really is your choice," he said. "I won't make it an issue."

"Why are you not fighting this?" Elsa said, suddenly furious. "Why can't you react normally?"

"The obvious conclusion is that I'm not normal," Max said with a shrug as he left the side of the bed and began walking towards the door. Just as he reached it, however, he looked over his shoulder. "Oh, and by the way…"

"What?" she snapped. "Do not make a joke. Not now."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied. "And forgive me for complicating our marriage of convenience, but I was just going to say that I discovered that I love you, Elsa."

He did not look back as he left the room, shutting the door behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"We never did name her, you know," Max said, attempting to alleviate the frosty silence over breakfast the next morning.

Elsa glanced at him but said nothing, gaze fixed on her plate.

"We can't just have her run around nameless."

"I know," she said curtly.

"Do you have any more ideas?"

"I didn't have any to begin with."

"Do you like the name Alexandra?" he suggested.

"Not really."

"Gretchen?"

She shook her head.

"Elisabeth?"

Elsa paused for a moment. "Perhaps," she consented, "but it's too close to my name."

"Wilhelmina?" he threw out, trying to make her stop acting like they were discussing the weather. It was an unusual name, but if it got her attention, it was now at the top of his list.

"Wilhelmina?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"I just suggested it to-"

"Actually," she said, "I… like it, I suppose."

"You like it?" he said in disbelief.

"Yes, I do," she said.

"Wilhelmina it is, then," he said. "It's German, I believe, so it won't make-"

"Max, don't make a big deal out of this," she said, standing.

"Naming our daughter is a big deal, Elsa," he said.

"You know as well as I that I'm not cut out for this," she replied tersely. "Don't try to make me be excited about every little detail. I'm not comfortable around children, heaven forbid infants. Please don't force me."

She left before he could reply.

* * *

Max was visiting the nursery a few days later to check on Wilhelmina when Ines, sitting in the rocking chair facing the door, suddenly stood, curtsying. "Fräu Detweiler," she said quickly.

He did not turn to face Elsa, keeping his gaze on the infant he held in his arms and his back to the doorway. Wilhelmina began to fuss, and Ines approached Max, but he stopped her by saying, "Give us a moment, will you?"

"Of course, Herr Detweiler," she said with another curtsy. "Would you like me to take-"

"No, that's alright," he replied. "Thank you." Ines curtsied again and left.

"What a surprise to see you here, Elsa," he said, looking over his shoulder. He expected his wife to turn and walk away, but she stayed, looking out of her element. "Have you held Wilhelmina yet?" he asked, walking towards her.

She shook her head, taking a step back as she said, "Max, I-"

"It's not difficult," he assured her. "Here." Max held out the child, and Elsa had to take her as he placed the infant in his wife's arms without waiting for her protests.

"Max-"

"Support her head," he advised. "There you are."

Elsa looked uncomfortable and a bit fearful. "Max, I don't know what to do…"

"You're doing fine."

"But what if I drop her, or…"

"You won't," Max said reassuringly. As she held her daughter, Wilhelmina began to cry. Elsa gave her husband a panicked look.

"How do I get her to stop?"

"Walk around. Try to soothe her."

"I'm not exactly a comforting person, Max."

"You'll be fine. Try walking around."

Elsa gave Max a disbelieving look, but did as he said, beginning to move around the nursery. Wilhelmina continued to cry as Ines came to the door, but Max held up a hand to stop her from taking the child. Elsa did not see the other woman, continuing to try to quiet Wilhelmina, but it was obvious she was starting to get frustrated. Max motioned for Ines to wait, and approached Elsa.

"Nothing I'm doing is working," she said, becoming exasperated as she looked up at him.

"You could try singing," he offered.

"I don't sing."

"Do you want me to try?" Max asked. She nodded, looking back down at the wailing infant. He cleared his throat.

_There's a sad sort of clanging_

_From the clock in the hall,_

_And the bells-_

"Stop, Max," Elsa said, cutting him off.

"Surely my voice isn't _that_ bad," he protested jestingly, but his wife placed the still-crying Wilhelmina in his arms. The infant began to quiet as he spoke in a low, soothing voice, and Elsa clearly noticed the contrast.

"Just take her. You're better with her than I ever will be."

"I'm sure if you had practice-"

"I hired her for a reason," his wife said, pointing at Ines. Elsa strode to the door of the nursery, but looked over her shoulder at Max as she paused. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't sing that particular song."

"Why? Because it reminds you of Georg?"

She turned to face him, a mix of anger and pain on her face. "Yes, it does. Don't ever sing the song again."

She left the room without another word.

* * *

A month passed, and it took Max nearly two days to convince Elsa to take Wilhelmina out for a Sunday drive to the capital. Only by orders from a doctor and the midwife telling her that she needed to leave the villa to regain her strength from the birth persuaded her to join her husband and daughter for the drive.

"Would you care to hold Wilhelmina?" he asked as he helped her into the car.

She opened her mouth to protest, as he knew she would, but surprised him by heaving a sigh and replying, "Fine." He tried to ignore the fact that she seemed to be resigning herself to the task, and instead smiled at her, grateful that some progress was being made.

Ines carefully placed the child in Elsa's arms, saying, "Remember to hold her head-"

"I know," Elsa said shortly, and the other woman blanched.

"Of course, Fräu Detweiler," she said quietly, suddenly nervous. Ines stepped away from the car, murmuring, "Have a good drive, Herr and Fräu Detweiler."

"Thank you," Max said with a smile, starting the engine.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" he said as they drove away from their estate. Elsa did not reply, her attention focused on Wilhelmina.

As they drove to the city, the car was silent. Max was grateful for Elsa's sake that Wilhelmina did not cry, only gurgling and cooing once or twice. She seemed to find her mother's hair fascinating, trying to reach up to grab it, but Elsa kept her dark curls out of her daughter's reach.

When they reached the capital, however, the atmosphere around them changed. Gone was the peaceful countryside filled with the colors of fall; now it was replaced by tension on the gray streets. People watched them as they drove past, and Max was careful to keep a neutral, somewhat friendly expression on his features as not to encourage anyone to try to rob them or something to that effect.

"Perhaps this wasn't the best idea," he said in a low voice to Elsa, who looked up.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Look at the people around us. They don't look exactly friendly."

Gunfire suddenly filled the air, and Max swerved, caught unawares. Elsa clutched a crying Wilhelmina to her chest, fear filling his wife's eyes, and he would have appreciated her gesture of maternal instinct if he wasn't trying to put distance between them and the shooting. As they drove past an alley, he glanced down it to see people running through the street on the far side, some carrying guns.

"Max, what's going on?" Elsa demanded.

"Someone's shooting in the next street over," he said, turning the car sharply down another street. "Let's get home before we meet them." Wilhelmina continued to cry as Elsa tried to quiet her, tension gripping her body.

They returned home in the half the amount of time it took to leave. As a servant opened the gate, Olof that stood beside the other man said, "Back so soo-?"

"There was shooting in the streets," Max interrupted.

"My God," Olof said as Max parked the car just inside the gates. Ines hurried forward, and Elsa handed the still-wailing Wilhelmina to her. The butler helped Elsa out of the car, but Max appeared at her side, nodding to the butler as he offered her his arm. She clutched him gratefully, shaken but trying to appear calm.

"Put the car in the garage, will you?" Max said to Olof. "Let's go inside, Elsa," he said to his wife, who nodded silently.

He helped her to a couch in the foyer, ordering a maid to bring a glass of wine. When the maid returned, Max handed Elsa the glass. "Here, drink this," he said, and she accepted it without question. "Are you alright?" he asked after a moment.

"Of course I'm not alright," she snapped. "We could have been shot. How could anyone be alright after that?" She sighed. "Forgive me, Max."

"Don't apologize," he said.

"But it wasn't your fault…" she said, and made to stand. "I think I'd like to- to lie down," Elsa said, catching herself from saying something. Max did not press her, but wondered if she had wanted to see Wilhelmina.

"Would you like me to come with you?"

"No, it's fine," she said quickly. "I'll be fine." But her hand shook slightly as she handed the glass to him before ascending the stairs.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Elsa did not leave their bedroom for the rest of the day. Max tried to visit her, but her maid instructed him that Elsa had asked for him to give her time alone. He complied, but worried for her. She had been obviously shaken by the morning's events, and he did not want to abandon her, but decided to comply with her wishes.

After a late dinner, Max decided that he couldn't leave her alone forever. He knocked on the doors of their bedroom, but she did not answer, and he opened a door to see her already asleep in bed.

He got ready for bed as quietly as he could, but she did not wake. She did stir, tossing and turning a couple of times, but never opened her eyes. When he got into bed beside her, she was cocooned in the comforter, dark hair strewn across her pillow. Max managed to get a corner of the blanket, but did not take anymore, knowing that she needed comfort. Elsa was definitely more troubled than him, though of course he was aware about what could have happened.

He was just beginning to fall asleep, more exhausted than he had first thought, when she began to toss and turn restlessly. Her brow was creased, though her eyes did not open, and she began to speak in a low, distressed tone.

"No, not Wilhelmina… not her… she's so young, please no…"

He turned to Elsa, about to wake her, when she spoke again. "Don't hurt him, please, not Max, not Max…"

He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but spoke before touching her, saying quietly, "Elsa. Elsa, wake up." She continued to toss and turn, a distressed look on her face even in sleep, and jerked away when he rested his hand on her shoulder. "Elsa, it's me. Wake up," he said in a louder tone, though still quiet.

"Don't hurt them, please…"

"Elsa," he said, shaking her gently. She tried to move away from his touch, but he persisted, saying, "Wake up. Elsa!"

She finally woke, and looked up at him with a confused expression and tears in her eyes. "Max?" Elsa questioned.

"Yes, it's me," he replied with what he hoped was a comforting smile. "You were just having a dream. It's alright."

She reached up to rest her palm against his cheek, giving him an intense, searching look. "You're safe?" Elsa said softly.

"Yes, and so is Wilhelmina."

At the mention of her daughter's name, Elsa began to move to get out the bed, but Max put a hand on her arm. "Wait, don't get up."

"Max-"

"You're still not all the way out of your dream. Come back, Elsa," he said, knowing she would want to stop him if she were completely coherent. She obeyed, albeit slowly, and climbed back into bed. He wrapped his arms around her without thinking, but did not move away when she rested her head on his chest, clinging to him. "Tell me what your dream was about."

"It wasn't just a dream," she said. "It was a nightmare. I was driving with you and Wilhelmina in the town, and men with guns were chasing our car. They were shooting at us, and then they shot Wilhelmina, and she died in my arms. And then they stopped the car and dragged you out… and- and they shot you."

When she finished talking, Max realized he had been stroking her hair in an attempt to calm her, and looked down to see silent tears making tracks down her face.

"She's alive," he said. "Wilhelmina's sleeping in the nursery. I'm alive. No one's been shot. We're safe, Elsa, I promise."

She moved out of his embrace, running a hand through her hair. "I'm going to check on Wilhelmina," she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

"Elsa-"

"Don't stop me this time." She opened her wardrobe and pulled out a robe, throwing it on carelessly. With a sigh, Max put on his glasses and his own robe, following her as she left.

He paused at the doorway of the nursery as Elsa strode in without knocking. Ines was clearly surprised by her employer's entrance, but, not questioning Elsa's unusually unkempt appearance, offered to pick up Wilhelmina from her cradle for her mistress.

"No, leave her there," Elsa said. "Don't wake her. I just want to… watch her." Ines retreated out of the room as Max watched his wife step closer to the cradle. Elsa did not move for a long moment, and then slowly reached down to brush the back of her fingertips lightly on her daughter's cheek. Only then did Max approach her, moving slowly as not to startle her.

"See?" he said quietly. "She's alright. Your nightmare was just a dream, and nothing more." He put a hand on her lower back, the second most intimate touch in their marriage. "Let's go back to bed, Elsa."

She did not even acknowledge his presence for a moment, and finally turned with a slow nod. She walked with him back to their bedroom, his hand still on her back. After they had climbed into bed, she leaned towards him and pressed her lips to his.

When she pulled back, he said, "Elsa…"

"Goodnight, Max, and… thank you." She turned and lay with her back to him, falling asleep quickly. He watched her for a moment before settling in, drifting off himself.

* * *

Two months passed without incident. Elsa did not have any more overtly maternal urges, but was not as uncomfortable around Wilhelmina. Max did his best to show affection to the child he called his daughter, but was not experienced with infants and still had awkward moments around her. Wilhelmina's heritage did not matter to him; it was as if she were truly his daughter, as she had Elsa's dark hair that could also be attributed to him. Max knew they would have to wait until she had grown considerably to see if she would ever pass convincingly as his child. He did hope, however, that enough of Elsa's characteristics would be passed down to Wilhelmina, to cover up for lacking physical attributes in her features from him.

Elsa had yet to bring up his decision of his feelings for her, and Max knew not to demand love in return. He did not know if she would ever feel the same way towards him, and accepted that. She had of course offered to fulfil the physical side of their relationship on their wedding night, but he did not know if feelings would ever be expressed on her part. She had told him that it was strictly a marriage of convenience, and he respected that, knowing she would most likely never see him as anything more than a close friend.

Her explanation of her nightmare made him somewhat hopeful, though he admitted it was a strange and somewhat morbid hope. As she had begged in her dream for him to be safe, there was a possibility that she cared for him, even more deeply than she herself had thought. But he reminded himself that she viewed him as a friend, nothing more.

One night halfway through September, Max was waiting up for Elsa, who was going over the menu with their chef for the small dinner party they were hosting the next evening. He tried to focus on his book, but was distracted, and finally set it aside with a sigh. Putting on a robe, he decided to check on Wilhelmina one last time. She had begun to develop the ability to pull herself up while laying on her stomach, a feat she had been unable to master a month earlier. Humming to himself, he went to the closed nursery door, forgetting to knock as he opened it.

He was greeted by the sight of Ines breastfeeding Wilhelmina, her chest bare and breasts displayed. He immediately turned around, and he heard her hurriedly fastening her dress, laying the child in the cradle. "Come in, Herr Detweiler."

"Oh, I didn't mean to- that is… Are you, ah, decent, Fräulien Eberhardt?" Max inquired with an embarrassed cough, keeping his back to the wet nurse and eyes straight ahead across the hall.

"Yes, I am," came Ines' reply. He looked over his shoulder to check, and seeing that she was telling the truth, he turned fully, keeping his gaze on her face and nothing below.

"Forgive me," he said, pushing his glasses up for something to do in the awkward situation. He had rarely been this uncomfortable. "I didn't mean to… walk in on you."

"It's alright," she said, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I wouldn't say so, but…" Clearing his throat, he went to the cradle, gazing down at Wilhelmina, who gave him a toothless smile. The tension in the room was lessened slightly as he reached out a hand for the two-month-old to grasp, who curled her hand around one of his fingers. "I came to, ah, see her before turning in."

"I am grateful that you are giving me employment," Ines said, but he was too transfixed by Wilhelmina to look up.

"That was my wife's doing, I assure you…" Max trailed off as he felt Ines lay a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look down at her, and immediately wished he hadn't. Her dress was pulled down to give him a view straight down it, one sleeve off the shoulder. She brushed her hair back with the hand not resting on his shoulder, giving him a determined look.

"Well, I'd like to show you my appreciation," she said in a low, throaty voice, and moved towards him.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," he said quickly, stepping back to get away from her, but she was persistent.

"I'm doing what your wife won't," Ines said, forcing him to continue to retreat as she moved after him. "Let me do everything for you."

"Again, that won't be necessary." Max stumbled over a chair, and she leaned towards him.

"It would be my pleasure."

"Fräulien Eberhardt," he said firmly, grasping her by her shoulders and guiding her back. "I order that you stop this immediately!" he said in his most authoritative tone. He released her shoulders as footsteps were heard in the hallway, commanding, "You will pack your bags at once and leave immediately. I will not accept such conduct in this house."

"What is going on here?"

Elsa stood in the doorway, her voice faint as shock covered her features. Ines pushed up the sleeves of her dress, but her mistress had seen enough.

"Elsa, I swear this is not what it looks like-" Max began, but his wife cut him off.

"Ines, you are fired."

The wet nurse began to curtsey, but Elsa's sharp voice made her freeze. "Get. Out." Ines looked at Max once before hurrying out of the nursery.

"Elsa, she came to me," he said immediately. "I did not welcome her… offer."

"You told me you loved me," his wife said.

"I still do. Elsa, I did everything I could to stop her. I never wanted her. I don't want her."

She looked at him for a long moment, and finally spoke. "I don't know what to believe, Max. I saw what I saw."

"I swear that I did nothing to welcome her… affections. I have always been faithful to you." He took a step forward, reaching out to her, but she held up a hand to stop him.

"I need time to think, Max. We should take some time apart-"

"Elsa-"

"For the night," she continued. "Perhaps two. I want to believe you, I truly do, but I can't erase what I saw. I'm sorry, Max."

She turned and left, her heels beating a fast staccato in the hall as he was left alone.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: There's only one more chapter to go, and an epilogue after that.** **Thank you to everyone who came on this journey with me and these characters.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: The view of Jews expressed by a character in this chapter are wrong and belittling to Jews, but are included to set the political climate during this time period.**

**Richard Strauss was in fact the president of the Reich Chamber of Culture (also known as _Reichsmusikkammer_), which really existed, from 1933 to 1935. Joseph Goebbels was Hitler's propaganda minister during the Third Reich. The Jewish Culture League, _Jüdischer Kulturbund_, was also real. **

**The Gestapo was the secret police of the Third Reich.**

* * *

Max slept in one of the guest bedrooms that night.

He did not see Elsa in the morning, but decided that it was for the best. He was grateful she hadn't reacted the way he thought she would, but he wouldn't have blamed her. Of course he had no intentions of betraying her, but she reacted much more calmly than he expected.

He expected her to cancel the dinner party, but she personally welcomed the guests into their villa with a broad smile. She didn't completely ignore him, but never sought him out or started a conversation with him. She appeared casual and pleased the entire evening, never once hinting towards the events of the previous night.

"And how is your daughter, Elsa?" asked a woman Max did not know.

"Fine, thank you," his wife replied with a smile.

"How old is she now?"

"Four months, nearly five," Elsa answered without hesitation. To be honest, Max was surprised she knew the exact number, but he said nothing.

"Of course you hired a wet nurse," the woman continued.

"I did, yes," Elsa said with a false smile. "How are you liking your townhouse in Vienna?" she asked before the woman could question her further.

"Have you heard about Jewish Culture League?" asked Johann Herschel, one of Max's coworkers at the Reich Chamber of Culture.

"Wasn't it called the Culture League of German Jews?" Max replied.

"They changed the name," Herschel said, "and I for one am glad they did. Jews don't have any place in Germany."

"It's a disgrace to society and music," Klaus Lewerenz, yet another employee at the Reich Chamber of Culture, threw in. "Obviously they do not possess the abilities our musicians have."

"I differ with you there, Lewerenz," Max said without thinking. Elsa looked up quickly, her expression asking him the question he was trying to answer himself – when did he take a stance in political conversations on the opposite side? He did not think anything less of Jews, but he never publicized that opinion, especially during the middle of the war to fervent Nazi coworkers.

"What do you mean, Detweiler?" Herschel asked. "Surely you don't think Jewish musicians can contribute to culture?"

Max almost backtracked to assure his coworkers that he agreed wholeheartedly with them, but something in him decided that he was going to take a stand for once. He didn't know why he was going to expose his true beliefs when his life was built on getting along with everyone, but his heart told him to speak up for once, despite the fact that his head was shouting for him to retreat.

"Richard Strauss believed Jews were worthy musicians," he offered, and saw Elsa tense beside him as he continued defending his argument.

"Strauss worked in the thirties," Herschel said dismissively. "People didn't understand the true place of the Jews then."

"But he was hired by Goebbels himself as the president of the Reich Chamber of Music. You must admit he is a talented composer," Max said. "Surely he has a sound understanding of music."

"Strauss was fired and now has fled the country," Herschel countered. "I'm surprised he wasn't arrested."

"But perhaps musical genius is not limited to Germans. There are brilliant musicians from France, Russia, Great Britain, even America. Why not Jews?"

"The Jews are an inferior race," Herschel said firmly. "Nothing good ever comes from them, especially music."

Just as Max was about to reply, Elsa rested a hand on his arm. She did not say a word, but he understood that she wanted him to either back down or change the topic before the conversation became heated. They could not afford to make enemies.

"Anyone care for more champagne?" he offered.

The tension hanging in the air during the conversation gradually dissipated as the night progressed. The guests left around midnight, and Max noted that Herschel, Achterberg, and Lewerenz departed after a brief, serious conversation in low voices.

"Why did you say those things, Max?" Elsa asked as they stood on the steps, watching the last of their guests drive away from the villa.

"I don't know," he admitted truthfully as they walked back together into the foyer. "I do believe Jews are just like everyone else, but I have no idea why I told Herschel that."

"You started to sound like Georg," she commented, glancing at him before looking away.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"It's dangerous. What if those men tell someone? You could be arrested."

"There's no guarantee I'd be arrested."

"Something could happen to you. Max, you never talk like that. Why then, of all times?"

"Elsa," he said, pausing, and she stopped walking to look back at him. He reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder, saying, "It will be alright. I'm too important the Chamber of Culture."

"No one is irreplaceable, Max," she said, her voice strained as she gave him a worried look.

"Don't worry about me," he replied, reaching up to brush a strand of hair off her forehead.

Loud car engines were heard down the road, but Max ignored them, letting his fingertips rest on his wife's temple as he gazed into her eyes. The moment was interrupted, however, as Olof hurried through a side door to the foyer.

"Herr Detweiler, there are men at the gate demanding to see you."

"What?" Max lowered his hand from Elsa's face and turned to look at the butler. "Who would be demanding to see me at this hour?"

"I did not recognize them, but they don't look friendly."

"Stay here, Elsa," Max said, and went to the front door.

True to Olof's word, there was a group of five men standing outside the gate in front of a large black car, arguing with one of the servants. Max recognized the gray uniforms they were wearing and paled at the arrival of the sight German citizens feared greatly – the Gestapo.

The man Max guessed was the leader was shouting, "We have orders-" but stopped as he caught sight of Max. "Detweiler, open this gate immediately."

The servant gave Max a fearful look, but he only gave the younger man a curt nod. The servant obeyed, and Max did not move as the Gestapo approached him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" he said, biting back the sarcasm that would only do harm.

"We have been informed that you are a Jewish sympathizer, Herr Detweiler."

"A Jewish-?" he said, feigning disbelief to the extent he was nearly at a loss for words. "You have the wrong man, I assure you. I am not a Jewish sympathizer."

"Our sources tell us you were making some questionable statements a couple hours ago."

"And who told you that?"

"Johann Herschel and Klaus Lewerenz."

"I'm sure they were mistaken-"

"They mentioned you by name, Herr Detweiler," the leader said. "I have orders only to go through your villa, but if we find something that incriminates you, you will be arrested immediately. Understood?"

"I understand," Max replied, relief washing through him.

"Begin the search!" the leader ordered. As the men marched inside the villa, Max made to go with them, but the leader barked, "Stay where you are, Detweiler!"

Max was forced to watch as the Gestapo began tearing his home apart. He winced as they broke priceless décor and destroyed furniture, but fear began to mount as his servants were rounded up by one of the men, pointing a gun at the small group of help. Max took a step forward, but froze as he heard a gun click right behind his head. He looked back slowly to see the leader pointing a pistol at him, and terror pounded through his veins at the sight. Then Max heard Elsa cry out, and whirled to see her stagger back from a slap from one of the Gestapo as she clutched Wilhelmina to her chest.

He immediately ran towards her, forgetting everything else, and had just reached her when he heard the gunshot.

Pain exploded in his right shoulder, completely controlling his every sense for a moment. He was aware of Elsa screaming as he nearly fell, catching himself just before hitting the floor. He dropped to one knee, clutching his shoulder, and managed to stagger upright, looking for Elsa in a pain-induced fog. He saw her being held back by the Gestapo who had struck her, a horrified expression on her face as she held her daughter tightly. She looked up sharply, however, as the leader shouted an order for his men to move out. The man holding her arm released her with a shove, but she caught herself before hurrying to Max.

He heard the Gestapo's car leave the villa as some of the servants rushed forward, and Max doubled over. Olof ran to his side to support his weight as Max leaned into him, his vision swimming from the pain. Elsa handed Wilhelmina to a maid before reaching out to cup his face with one hand, but stopped as the butler said, "I need to move him, Fräu Detweiler."

"Of course," she said in a shaking voice, dropping her hand and stepping away to let them pass. Olof helped Max to the couch in the foyer; as he sank into it, Max's vision darkened and he lost consciousness.

* * *

Max woke in a cloud of pain. He registered low voices nearby, but was too disoriented to identify them. He managed to come to the conclusion that he was in a bed, his own bed, and his right shoulder was immobilized by a cast or thick bandage, his arm stiff by his side. He found his eyelids were heavy, from sleep or something else, he did not know, and turned his head, struggling to open them.

He heard Elsa's voice say his name, and he was finally able to open his eyes. He immediately closed them tightly at the light, groaning at the splitting headache that had surfaced, but forced his eyes open to see Elsa leaning over him, watching him urgently.

"Max?" she repeated breathlessly. His wife's eyes were red and her expression was the most anxious he had ever seen her wear. "You're… you're awake?"

"Or I'm sleeping with my eyes open and talking all the while," he said with as much of a smile as he could muster. "I don't believe I'm in the habit of either."

"Max," Elsa said with a laugh that held an echo of a cry. "I can't believe you're finally awake," she continued with a voice that wavered slightly. "A bullet to the shoulder doesn't… kill a person, but when that man shot you, you were unconscious for quite some time. The doctor gave you morphine in case you woke up while he was taking out the bullet, but…"

"But I'm awake," Max said, reaching up with his left hand to rest a hand on her cheek as she hovered over him, and he felt her tremble faintly. "I'm alive."

"You shouldn't be comforting me," she said quickly, trying to gather herself back together. "You're the one who was shot, not me. And you already reassured me already, when I had my nightmare…"

"And I'll do it again," he said, looking into her eyes. "You don't have to strong all the time, Elsa." Max lowered his hand, feeling sleep claim him again.

"Get some rest," she said, brushing back a strand of hair from his forehead as his eyes closed, suddenly heavy. "I'll be here when you wake." He tried to respond, but sleep was already weighing down his entire body, immobilizing him in its throes.

Just as his senses began to slip away, he heard Elsa whisper, "I love you, Max."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Realistically, given what was happening during Hitler's rule and the Gestapo's involvement, Max would be dead at the end of this chapter. However, I can't bring myself to kill him after all he and Elsa have gone through. There is one more chapter to go, an epilogue that's twice as long as the previous chapters have been. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, especially Camberleigh Fauconbridge, augiesannie, and lemacd. **

**A random thought - I was considering changing the name of this fic to _In A Very Unusual Way_, as it's basically the theme song for Max and Elsa (Laura Benanti sang it originally in the musical _Nine_) but seeing how close we are to the end of this story, I decided to keep the original title. **


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"There is no way this will go well. Perhaps I should have stayed in Vienna."

"Elsa," Max said with a sigh, reaching across the taxi and past five-year-old Wilhelmina sitting between them to rest a hand on his wife's knee. "They will be happy to see us, I promise."

"Maybe you," she responded, "but not me."

"I'm sure Georg will be delighted to see an old friend again," he said, ignoring her scoff of disbelief as he pulled his hand back, "and I think it's is impossible for Maria to be anything but kind."

"We could have told them we were coming, at the very least," she countered, smoothing out her skirt. "They can't be thrilled that three guests show up unannounced on their doorstep."

"They run a ski lodge. Stop trying to look at the downside, Elsa. I thought you had agreed that we wanted to surprise them."

She finally turned her head to look at him. "Now I'm starting to think we should have sent them a letter. Something to let them know we survived the war."

"I'd place a bet saying Georg guessed all these years that we made it out. Do you really think a war would stop us?"

"Well, we're certainly going to be different than he remembered," she said quietly, looking down at her hands folded in her lap.

"There's nothing wrong with change, Elsa," he said, and she glanced at him before returning her gaze to the landscape passing by.

It had been nearly five years since the Gestapo had shot Max, and seven since the couple had last seen the von Trapp family. He had never regained full use of his right arm, but was grateful for surviving in the first place. They had lain low for the rest of the war; blending in had always come easily to both, but keeping attention away from themselves was not. This was an adjustment in itself, but they did what they had to do to survive.

To Elsa and Max's relief, Wilhelmina had taken predominantly after her mother, and no questions were raised about her true paternal heritage. As Max watched her grow, he found himself wondering what she would be like when she became older. If she turned out anything like Elsa, Max knew a time would come when boys would come calling for Wilhelmina. He had a feeling he would not react amiably to letting the girl he considered a daughter be viewed as a prize by the boys who pursued her, and the feeling still surprised him. But many things had occurred in the past five years, and he decided to take his own advice and come to the conclusion that there was nothing, in fact, wrong with change.

After a multitude of events in Germany, including Hitler's suicide and the fall of the Third Reich, it was declared that the war had officially come to an end. Max had brought up leaving the country for a time to let things settle down, and they had decided to go to America to find the von Trapp family. And now they were driving to the lodge that their friend owned in a foreign country in hopes of reconnecting with him and his family after nearly ten years of silence.

As he watched the countryside pass by as they drove, Max had to admit it reminded him somewhat of Austria, and understood why Georg chose here of all places to escape. It had a similar atmosphere of the mountains his friend had loved so well, with a safety Austria never provided, and Max was grateful that he was visiting the companion he hoped was thriving, instead of attending a funeral to mourn. It was a miracle any of them had survived the war, and he was well aware of the fact.

The drive seemed to take forever. Wilhelmina fell asleep, leaning against Max, but Elsa reached out to brush a lock of dark hair behind her daughter's ear as the five-year-old slumbered peacefully. His wife's feelings towards Wilhelmina had improved over the years, but it seemed the mother and daughter would never be close; Wilhelmina was drawn to Max more than Elsa, but his wife appeared to have accepted the fact. Max himself knew he would never be completely comfortable around children of any age, but found himself loosening up during interactions with the young girl. Time would tell how the small family would grow and adapt over the years.

"We're getting close, sir," the taxi driver said, his American accent strange to the Austrian. Both Max and Elsa knew English, coming from well-off families and tutored in many languages, but during the war had no opportunities to practice, as anything connected to the Allies was strictly forbidden in Germany. They both had been able to navigate their way to America with rusty English, but the language, so different from German, still felt odd on his tongue.

"Thank you," Max replied in English before leaning over Wilhelmina, who was still asleep. "Wake up, Mina," he said quietly in German. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elsa look up at the use of the nickname and the language. "We're almost there, _libeling_," he continued in his native tongue as she looked up at him sleepily.

"You should be using English, Max," Elsa commented as the taxi driver made a turn.

"I'm sure they will be glad to speak German after spending so much time with Americans," Max replied in the language of her request. "Georg, Maria, and the children, I mean."

"Still, if we want Wilhelmina to learn English at all, she has to hear it sometime," Elsa replied. Max nodded in agreement and turned to the five-year-old as she looked out the taxi window, all traces of sleep gone as excitement filled her eyes.

"Is that your friends' house, Father?" Wilhelmina asked, pointing out the window.

Max looked in the direction she was pointing and nodded. "I believe it is, _libeling_."

A massive structure stood before them as the taxi pulled up in the drive. It was designed to resemble a traditional Austrian dwelling, such as a farmer's cottage or something of that nature, except on an enormous scale. The lodge was four stories high, with two wings branching off on either side of a main building encircled by a balcony. The taxi driver parked before the main building, and Max helped him unload their luggage from the trunk of the car as Elsa watched over Wilhelmina. The driver left after receiving his pay, and the small family was left in the drive.

"It looks busy," Max commented as he looked in one of the windows. Taking one of their suitcases in one hand and Wilhelmina's hand in the other, he looked to Elsa. "Shall we go in?" She nodded, hesitating for a split second before going to the entrance and pulling open a door with a confidence he could tell she was pretending.

"Good afternoon, how can I help you?" said a voice, in nearly perfect English, Max instantly recognized as he stepped through the door, and he came face to face with Liesl von Trapp.

"Uncle Max?" she said, incredulous.

"Hello, Liesl," he said with a grin as she stepped forward to embrace him tightly. The girl – no, woman – released Max to see Elsa standing behind him, and Liesl moved forward as if to embrace the former baroness, but settled for resting a hand on the older woman's arm, clearly unsure as to how to welcome her.

"It is wonderful to see you again, Baroness Shraeder," Liesl said, switching to German.

"Fräu Detweiler now," Elsa corrected also in their native language, but as Liesl began to apologize for her mistake, she added more kindly, "You can call me Elsa, Liesl."

"I – of course, Bar– Elsa," the younger woman said, tripping over her tongue. "Wait, you mean, you and Max…?"

"Yes, and that's not all," he interrupted with a smile, falling back himself to German. "Wilhelmina, say hello to Liesl," he prompted the young girl, who looked up at the eldest von Trapp daughter shyly.

"Hello," Wilhelmina said softly as Liesl smiled broadly.

"Why, hello," Liesl said, bending down to be nearer to the child's height. "How old are you, Wilhelmina?"

"Five."

"That's a very good age to be. You're almost a young lady." Wilhelmina gave her a toothy smile.

"Speaking of which, how old are you now, Liesl?" Max asked as she straightened.

"Twenty-three."

"_Twenty_-? How are you twenty-three?" Max said incredulously.

"Last time we say you, you were so young…" Elsa commented.

"A lot of things have changed since then," Liesl replied, her smile faltering for a second before returning. "Let me get the rest of the family," she said, turning and going up the steps.

"I like her, Father," Wilhelmina said.

"Me, too, _libeling_." He looked at Elsa, who was starting to look uncomfortable as footsteps were heard coming down the stairs. He met his wife's gaze, giving her what he hoped was a comforting smile, and received a tight-lipped one in return as a group appeared at the top of the stairs, hurrying down the steps as they called his name.

Louisa, also grown into a woman like her elder sister, threw her arms around him as Max recognized Gretl, Marta, and Brigitta, traces of their childhood appearances still evident in their features years later. As they all spoke at once, Kurt shook his hand and Freidrich clapped him on his right shoulder. Max couldn't stop himself from wincing as he reached up his left hand to his shoulder as Freidrich began apologizing. "It's alright," Max assured him. "You've grown considerably since I saw you last. How old are you now?" he asked, feeling old himself for asking in the first place.

"I'm twenty-one, Louisa's twenty, and Kurt's eighteen," Freidrich answered.

"I'm sixteen now," Brigitta added, "Marta's fourteen, and Gretl's twelve."

"Time has flown," Elsa said, stepping forward, and the siblings gave her surprised looks.

"Baroness-"

"Fräu Detweiler, but call me Elsa," she said smoothly, and looked up as a voice Max knew very well said her name.

Liesl was helping Georg down the last of the stairs, letting him lean on her as he slowly made his way towards them. Their friend, once so imposing with ramrod-straight posture from his time the Austrian navy, now was bent slightly, his frame thinner and skin paler than ever before. He did not look well, and as he coughed the action appeared to pain him, but he smiled at the sight of his old friends.

"Georg," Max said with a grin, letting go of Wilhelmina's hand and moving to grasp his friend's hand in his.

"It's been too long, Max," Georg said.

"You own this place, then?" Elsa said as she approached, Wilhelmina trailing after her and clutching her right hand.

"Elsa," Georg said, reaching out to kiss her left hand. When he lifted it to his lips, he paused, seeing the ring and Wilhelmina at her side. "Did the two of you...?"

"Yes," Max said.

"I never thought either of you would settle down, much less with each other," Georg commented.

Max exchanged a glance with Elsa. "It's a long story," he said. "Where's Maria?"

"I think she's in the kitchen," Louisa said. "I'll get her." As she left, Elsa spoke.

"How are you, Georg?"

"Truth be told, I've been better," he said. "What about the two of you?"

"Well, we're..." Max began to answer, but trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to answer the question.

"We're fine," Elsa finished.

"Louisa, I told you to speak English-" Maria paused for a moment in shock as she saw Max and Elsa, surprise covering her features. "Max! Baroness Shraeder!" she said with a genuine smile, stepping forward.

"Maria," he said, shaking her hand and brushing his lips in her cheek in greeting. "Surely we can use our native tongue for old times' sake?"

"I- of course," Maria conceded, and Max saw the children give each other knowing grins. "Baroness Shraeder," she said, extending a hand to Elsa.

"Fräu Detweiler, but please call me Elsa," she said in a much more restrained tone than before. It was clear she was not entirely comfortable with the woman who had won Georg's heart over her own, but gave Maria a small, somewhat forced, smile. "You look well, Maria."

"I am blessed," she said with a smile so genuine it was nearly disarming. "And who is this?" Maria asked, looking down at Wilhelmina, who clung to Elsa's hand.

"Say hello, Wilhelmina," her mother said, guiding her daughter forward, and the former governess spoke.

"That's a very pretty dress, Wilhelmina. What's your favorite color?"

"Pink," the young girl said shyly.

"Pink's my favorite color, too," Maria said with a smile.

"Really?" Wilhelmina asked, more boldly than before.

"Really." At Maria's reply, Wilhelmina giggled quietly.

"We should start bringing in the luggage," Elsa said. Though she hid it well, Max could see she was affected by the fact that Maria had connected with Wilhelmina in minutes, while Elsa had never been able to get her daughter to truly open up. Wilhelmina had always turned to Max instead of her mother, and though his wife never admitted it, she seemed to want a deeper connection with her daughter, but Elsa did not know how to proceed.

"Of course," Max said, moving to the door, but Elsa put a hand on his chest.

"Stay with Wilhelmina, Georg, and Maria," she said. "I'll go."

"Elsa-" His wife stopped him with a look. "If that's what you want," he said, looking in her eyes, but she turned her head.

"It wouldn't do your shoulder any good to carry heavy luggage," she said before stepping out the door. It was clear she needed space and time away from the reminder that she had lost to Maria, and Max let her go.

"Help her, boys," Maria said, and Kurt and Freidrich went outside. "Girls, we cannot abandon the rest of our guests any longer. Back to work," she said. Liesl lingered, standing by her father, but Maria stepped to her husband's side. "I can help him, Liesl. Why don't you go prepare the second suite for them?"

"Of course, Mother," the young woman said with a smile as she left to go down a hall nearby.

"We don't need anything lavish," Max said as Kurt and Freidrich came in, carrying suitcases and bags.

"Nothing but the best for old friends," Georg said, directing his sons to the suite. "Is Elsa going to come back in?" he questioned, and Max turned to see Elsa standing before the drive, her back to the entrance as she pretended to admire the view. Max moved to go to her, but Maria spoke.

"May I?" the blonde woman asked. "I have a feeling she is not quite at ease around us, and I would like to put her anxiety to rest."

"Of course," Max said, recognizing a talk between Maria and Elsa had to happen sooner or later.

"Get me a chair, would you, Max?" Georg said as Maria left his side, stepping out the door. Wilhelmina watched silently as Max obeyed, retreiveing one from a corner of the entrance hall. "I'm not as young as I used to be," Georg explained with a rueful smile as he took a seat, clearing his throat.

"You don't look quite like you used to," Max pointed out. "But I suppose none of us do anymore."

"Chest pain has been giving me some trouble over the years," Georg admitted. "Is your shoulder bothering you?"

"I, ah, it's an old wound," Max revealed. "Bullet. Can't really use my right arm that much anymore." He paused to listen to Maria and Elsa's conversation.

"It reminds me of Austria," Elsa was saying, and she had not moved from the last time Max had glanced at her.

"That's one of the reasons we chose this location," Maria responded. "The hills and valleys surrounding the lodge look like the mountains of home. As close as they could be, that is."

"Maria, you and I know we can't talk about the weather and the sights forever," Elsa said, looking at Maria, who waited patiently, and Elsa drew in a breath. "I want to apologize for how I treated you back in Salzburg. It was wrong of me. I saw you as a threat to my engagement with Georg and I responded accordingly. I'm sorry for the way I treated you."

"I understand, and I forgive you," Maria said kindly, and Elsa looked away. "The past is in the past."

"You know, sometimes, during the early days of the war," Elsa said so quietly Max almost didn't hear her confession, "I wished I had married Georg, despite our differences. He is much happier with you than he ever would be with me, of course, but he would have made a better husband than my second."

"Max?" Maria asked in confusion.

"No, Max is my third husband," Elsa corrected. "My second died a year into our marriage, and Max and I married out of convenience."

"Is Wilhelmina...?"

"She's my second husband's child, but we never told anyone. The timing worked out that no one questioned it."

"Are you happy with Max?" Maria asked.

"Yes. He helped me when no one else would during the war."

"Do you love him?"

Though Max expected Elsa to be insulted by the forward nature of the question, his wife paused. "Yes," she said after a moment. "Yes, I do."

"Then that's all that should matter." After a contemplative pause, Maria continued. "Shall we go inside?"

"Of course," Elsa said, turning. Maria gave her a broad smile, and Elsa gave her a smaller but arguably more genuine one than she had displayed during their entire visit. They came in together, and Maria stepped forward to help Georg to his feet as Liesl approached with a smile.

"Your room is ready."

"Lead the way, then," Max said. Elsa stepped forward and took Wilhelmina's left hand in her right as Max held their daughter's right with his left. "We'll catch up with you later tonight?" he asked Georg.

"Of course," his friend replied with a smile.

"Come along, _libeling_," Max said to Wilhelmina, and the small family followed Liesl down the hall. After the eldest von Trapp daughter left, explaining that she needed to return to the front desk, Max and Elsa were alone for the first time that day, excepting for the presence of Wilhelmina, who went to look out the window of the suite.

"I overheard your conversation with Maria," Max said as Elsa sat on the edge of the bed.

"Oh?" she said as he took a seat beside her.

"You told Maria we married out of convenience–"

"Which we did."

"–and I wanted you to know that if you wanted to go your own way," he continued, "I'm not going to stop you."

"Max," she began, but he went on.

"The war is over, and you don't need my protection, however limited it was."

"You helped me so much, Max."

"But I don't want to hold you to a temporary arrangement made in desperate times. So if you want to take Wilhelmina and go, or even leave her with me," he said, "I'm giving you the option."

She looked at him for a long moment, and Max was afraid she would take his offer and leave right then and there. Yes, love made him afraid, but it also gave him the strength to release her for her happiness.

"Max," Elsa finally said, and he watched her carefully. "I must confess I had thought about this, during the war. I was sure I would leave the moment the war ended. But now…" She reached out to rest a hand on top of his. "That day, when you were shot, I realized that my worst nightmare was losing you. Before that moment, I could have walked away if given the chance, but everything changed after the Gestapo came. You are my best friend, my support, and my husband," Elsa said seriously, looking into his eyes. "I just can't make myself leave now," she admitted. "Even if I wanted to."

"Do you want to?"

She shook her head. "No." Elsa looked down at their hands, weaving her fingers through his in a tighter hold. "I love you too much, I guess."

Not letting himself think, Max reached up his other hand and pulled her to him to kiss her.

In the other occasions where they had kissed, she had always initiated it, but she seemed willing enough for him to take the lead. They pulled apart, staring at each other, but the moment was interrupted as Wilhelmina asked, "Can we see your friends again, Father?"

"Yes, Mina," Max said, getting to his feet.

"We should socialize," Elsa added, standing as she smoothed her hair back.

"It wouldn't do us any harm," he commented. "Come along, Wilhelmina," he said, and their daughter followed them out the door. Max offered his arm to his wife, and Elsa took it, slipping her hand into his.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: _Libeling _means darling in German.**

**The Trapp Family Lodge opened in 1945 in Stowe, Vermont, the same year WWII ended, and is still up and running today. My description of the lodge itself is based solely off images I found on Google of the new structure; I have never been to Vermont, so please excuse my inaccuracy of describing the old lodge. **

**The real Georg von Trapp died of lung cancer in 1947, two years after Max and Elsa's (completely fictional) visit would have taken place. I wanted to add some historical facts to the story while still keeping to the musical's basis. The real Maria and Georg had three children together in their marriage, but this chapter was too long to add them. It was confusing enough keeping track of the musical's version of the children. I realize this chapter is twice as long as the others, but as it is the last one and serves as an epilogue of sorts, I didn't want to sacrifice the plot just for length. **

**Laura Benanti and Christian Borle brought so much depth to Elsa and Max that I never even considered before seeing their performances, but it was intriguing to delve even deeper into the characters on my own. I am proud of _I Feel I Haven't Won At All_, as I actually managed to complete it in only a few weeks. Thank you for the reviews, which I never expected to get in the first place. Thank you for reading this, and thank you to everyone who went on this journey with me.**

**Auf Wiedersehen. **


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